Isobel's first night with Frang. How will it go? TeΓ‘rlag's last night with Thorburn this trip. How will it end? This chapter contains lots of oral sex and a brisk, well deserved spanking. Don't read it if you don't like it. For those that do, enjoy.
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When they got to Frang's room, the first thing Isobel saw was a tub filled with hot water. She looked at him.
"I know how much you enjoy a hot bath. I wasn't able to get a screen built for you, but I can turn away if you want me to."
"We are married now. I imagine you'll see me many times without my clothing on. If you can withstand the sight of me without violating your promise; I'm not averse to you seeing me."
"I promise to remain a gentleman, no matter how aroused I become," Frang said, smiling.
"Can you loosen my hair for me?" Isobel asked.
"Of course."
Isobel sat on the bed and Frang sat beside her. Removing hairpins as he went, he loosened the braids TeΓ‘rlag so carefully crafted. He gently separated the strands of hair, finally running his hands through her hair, letting it cascade down her back.
"Would you like help with the buttons?" He asked, breathily.
"Please."
He unhooked each loop until all were done.
"Finished," Frang said. He shifted away from her, giving her space.
Isobel stood and eased the dress off her shoulders, lowering it to the floor. Nothing stood between her and his hot gaze but the embroidered under shift. She moved closer to the tub and when she was beside it, she pulled the shift over her head and dropped it. Frang had an all too brief glimpse of her naked form before she stepped carefully into the tub and sank into the water. He collected the dress and shift from the floor, laying them over the chair placed by the fire. Frang noticed when he approached the tub to gather the shift, Isobel shrank a little in the water, wondering what his approach signified to her. More than at any previous time did he realize how badly scarred she'd been in her dealings with McTavish and how little she trusted men, even himself. Once again he damned the blackhearted villain and hoped he spent an eternity in hell.
When he moved away from her, she relaxed, even more so when he returned to the bed.
"Would you like me to wear something tonight?" Frang asked. "I could put something on if it would make you more comfortable."
"How do you normally sleep?"
"A nightshirt in the winter, normally bare during the summer."
"Would it bother you over much to wear a shirt?"
"I will happily wear whatever would make you more comfortable," Frang replied.
"A shirt please," her voice low and timid.
"As you wish, my Lady."
He went to the cupboard and found a lighter nightshirt. Going back to the bed, which was slightly behind her, he removed his wedding finery and put on the shirt. Putting his things away, he climbed into the bed.
"I have a suggestion, Isobel, which might assist us become more comfortable with each other."
"Yes?"
"Let us pretend, as best we can, that this is the first time for both of us. Neither of us has ever been with another. Since it will be our first time, we will be shy and uncertain. I will only reveal what you are comfortable with me revealing, and you will only show me what your shyness would dictate if this were our first experience. You may touch what you're willing to touch and I will only touch what you are prepared to be touched. Nothing need happen tonight. It will take awhile to overcome our reserve, but we have all the time in the world, so we aren't rushed. We aren't even married. You're a young girl, and I'm a young man and we want to explore the differences between us at our own pace. Do you think this would help you?"
"Perhaps. I'm unsure if I am able to pretend so much."
"I want you to be comfortable and I hope this might help."
"I'm willing to try."
"There are cloths for drying yourself beside the tub and the maid left your night shift on the chair by the fire. You may come to bed when you're ready. I'm going to close my eyes now."
Ten minutes later, he felt Isobel sit on the edge of the bed.
"Lie down," he said, "and face me."
She laid down, facing him. Her nightgown was on. He smiled at her.
"Isobel, with your permission, I would like to touch your face. May I please?"
"Yes."
Very slowly and with infinite care, his hand bridged the small gap between them and he cupped her cheek.
"You're so beautiful," he said. "My heart nearly stopped when I saw you standing at the door in your dress. Stuart had to remind me to breathe. He told me if I didn't, the ceremony would end quickly and ignominiously if I fainted. You were halfway up the aisle before I could take another breath."
He brushed a damp tendril of hair from her brow and grazed the backs of his fingers from her temple, along her cheek and down her neck. She shivered at the light touch, like a feather. His fingertips went out her shoulder and down her arm before retracing their way back to her cheek.
"I would like to kiss you," Frang said, "but if you would be kissed, you must kiss me as I do not wish to startle you nor crowd you. Will you kiss me?"
She nodded and leaned forward, skimming her lips across his cheek, then his lips. He didn't move, waiting for her. Her lips brushed his in a whisper, then gone. He waited and when he didn't move to grab her, they came back, lingered a moment longer before moving away.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Frang asked.